


Pain

by RussianCaravan



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Death, Depression, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicide, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love, Unsafe Sex, unrequited Germany/North Italy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 03:13:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12245853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianCaravan/pseuds/RussianCaravan
Summary: Ludwig felt nothing. He hadn’t felt anything in a long time.





	Pain

Ludwig felt nothing. He hadn’t felt anything in a long time. Even as the man atop him (what did he say his name was again?) continued to thrust inside him. Ludwig faked moans of enjoyment, gripping the sheets in the dark. Even as the man finished and Ludwig felt cum and lube drip down his left thigh, and as Ludwig gripped masturbated to completion, he felt nothing. Orgasms meant almost nothing anymore. Ludwig caught his breath before fishing for his pants.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Yes.” He replied simply, before collecting his phone and shutting and door. Another typical weekend in Berlin. Another stranger to give him a shitty fuck in an attempt to rid himself of his numbness. It never did. Part of him hoped perhaps he’d catch something (sexually transmitted disease or otherwise) that would kill him, as he was once too cowardly to do so himself. His phone read 2:00am. A bottle of whisky awaited him when he got home, he once preferred beer, when getting a bit tipsy was for enjoyment, but whisky was much better for alcohols new purpose in his life; trying to stop the pain. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but he didn’t much care. He had many habits that weren’t healthy, and after another night of pain and numbness, he needed his other habit.

Razor blades, recently purchased and as sharp as possible, awaited him on his bathroom sink. He wasn’t sure what he found more relaxing about the experience; witnessing the blood rise to the surface and spill out across his skin, or the sting. Perhaps it was both. His thighs were now completely covered in scars, as were his ankles and shoulders (all places covered by his normal clothing), luckily with winter approaching, his wrists were an option (he always preferred there- unsure of whether it had something to do with the nerve endings there or if he was just a whore for attention).

He sat on bottom of his shower, washing away the blood but not his deep, deep sadness. Not even this helped tonight, and tears dripped down his cheeks. Thinking about his plan was slightly calming.

The next morning he went to work, no one even bothering with a hello, and put on his good worker routine. “Only a few more days Ludwig, then it can all go away” he told himself. His brother Gilbert tried to call, he didn’t pick up. He had gotten rid of all social media over a month ago now (he hardly had any friends on there anyway), he found it depressing, especially after the most embarrassing incident of his life.

Two months ago, he finally did it, he asked the love of his life out on a date. This ‘love’ was a sweet Italian man named Feliciano, whom he had met through mutual friends at his brother’s insanely busy housewarming party three years ago. They had become inseparable, and Ludwig had fallen hard. Feliciano hadn’t. After a life of loneliness, of cleaning up after a rowdy brother who was meant to care for him, and after a mediocre school-life and equally mediocre job, he was broken. The straw that broke the camel’s back. He had self-harmed for years, and had often idealised about suicide, but he had never had a plan before. Now he did. He had a will officiated, his dogs sent to his brother’s house to live ‘for a while’, had officially given his two weeks’ notice to his workplace, and had ensured the one who would find his body was his asshole landlord on an inspection. He took his medication (that hadn’t helped), and prepared for another night of meaningless sex with strangers, taking whatever substances he could get his hands on, and cutting until he felt something.

On that night, he had a note pinned to his door and a loaded gun ready, he hesitated. He remembered how happy he had been around Feliciano; his smile, his accent, his confidence, his silliness, and how their last conversation had gone:

“Feliciano, there’s something I’d like to tell you, but please-please don’t let it ruin our friendship.”

“That would be impossible Luddy! What is it?”

“I- Would” He breathed in heavily “would you like to go on a date with me?” Feliciano stared at him, physically recoiling from him, Ludwig was horrified “Please say something” he pleaded. The silence was almost as bad as what came next.

“That’s… that’s sick Ludwig.” He stood and left, clutching the crucifix he often carried.

A few more tears dropped down Ludwig’s cheeks at the memory- this was for the best he told himself, for the best. A gunshot rang through the apartment.

**Author's Note:**

> So I kinda got back into Hetalia and really needed a vent fic. This is really, really depressing honestly.


End file.
